


If Hawkeye Stays

by WelshJuliet



Series: Where Hawkeye Went [1]
Category: If I Stay - Gayle Forman, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Astral Projection, Bird Bros - Freeform, Coma, Injured Clint, Multi, Will Add More Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshJuliet/pseuds/WelshJuliet
Summary: Anyone who has read 'If I Stay' by Gayle Forman, this is basically the same story, but sculpted to fit around Clint and the Avengers and SHIELD.





	1. 7:14 AM

**Author's Note:**

> So this unbeta'd at the moment, I'm not sure if I will get one or not. This is my first time posting so please be gentle with me. 
> 
> In this, Bucky was found and worked with SHIELD early. He still lost his arm and has the metal arm, which of course, Tony made better, because Tony is a grown-up and dealt with the issue of his parents and Bucky correctly and appropriately. 
> 
> Clint is also younger, around Natasha's age of 30. Takes place during early 2014, so about the time of CA:WS.
> 
> I'm not sure how regularly this will be updated since I'm about to start my first job, yay!! But I'm just going to apologize right now for any issues: Sorry, don't hurt me.

Clint woke up to a metal arm holding him close, and a nose nuzzling the back of his neck. Clint smiled and leaned into the body behind him. He loved mornings like this. He could tell that Bucky was still asleep behind him, how his arms was lazily thrown across his waist. 

Clint rolled onto his back and looked over. Bucky’s dark brown hair was hiding his face and Clint silently chuckled. He brushed it away and Bucky blinked awake. Bucky smiled at him and closed his eyes again.

“Morning.” Clint smiled, loving how the sun was shining slightly on Bucky. It made him look gorgeous. The most beautiful thing in the world. 

“Morning.” Bucky murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “Stay in bed with me.” 

“I can’t. I have a meeting at SHIELD in an hour and a half. I have to get going, love.” Clint said, leaning over and gently pressing a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s lips.

Bucky moved slightly, so they were kissing. “I love you.” Bucky whispered once they parted.

Clint pressed another kiss to Bucky’s lips before saying, “Love you too.” 

Clint lingered in bed for a few more moments, before he slipped out of Bucky’s hold, which caused Bucky to grunt. Bucky curled up, holding a pillow in his arms. 

Clint showered and then dressed in jeans, a purple t-shirt and his leather jacket. He slipped on his grey converse and grabbed his car keys and wallet. He went back over to Bucky, who was still asleep, and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back later. Promise.”

{-------------------------------------------------}

In the kitchen, Natasha sat at the counter, slowly drinking coffee out of her Black Widow mug. His Winter Soldier mug was already out, with freshly poured coffee. (Tony had gotten them all mugs that matched them. Tony had gotten most of the Avengers merchandise.) 

“Thanks Tash.” Clint smiled. Coffee, he loved coffee so much. 

Tasha just nodded at him. “What’s the meeting about?” She calmly asked, flipping a page in some magazine she was skimming.

“Some milk-run job. There are newbies that need a superior officer overseeing them, and Fury asked me.” Clint told her.

Tasha nodded. “Be safe. You know milk-runs aren’t always easy.” 

“Don’t jinx us, Tasha. I swear, if something happens, I’m blaming you.” Clint said, glaring and pointing a finger at her. 

“Noted. Be safe.” She said, before standing up. She wrapped an arm around the younger man and kissed his cheek. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re gone.” 

Clint nodded his thanks and watched as his best friend, the woman he considered his sister. He leaned back and grabbed a bagel, slowly pulling a chunk off and then dunking it in his coffee. After another ten minutes, he grabbed the keys to his jeep.

He took the elevator down to the garage. He fiddled with the radio and left it at a channel that was playing 80’s music. He shifted the car into drive and started on his way to meet Fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to give Clint Cherry, his 1970 Dodge Challenger, but I couldn't bring myself to because of what happens next chapter. He'll get Cherry later.


	2. 8:04 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is short, I've started training at work and has been a bit frazzled. Next week should be a bit longer. Sorry again.

Clint woke up to hearing David Bowie’s ‘Just Dance’ song playing on the radio. When did he fall asleep? He opened his eyes and saw his green Jeep Wrangler destroyed. The passenger side was crumpled in on itself, making the car narrower than it usually was. The windshield was shattered, something was thrown through it. The wheels were all dented and positioned wrong. The car that had t-boned him was in better shape. The front of his bumper was dented, and so was part of the hood. The driver was unconscious.

Clint stood up on the sidewalk, watching the crowd of people gather. He rushed towards his car, trying to figure out what happened. No one noticed that he was standing in the street. He ran to the other driver, but he didn’t feel a pulse. But he could smell alcohol, and he saw bottles around the car, some empty and some with liquid still in it. “Shit.” Clint muttered, looking around. He saw a hand on the ground, someone else was injured. He ran to him, but he stopped. 

That was his hand, he could tell from all the callouses on the fingers, years of stringing a bow and shooting one. Clint stepped forward and saw himself, laying there. Blood had seeped through his purple shirt, through his jacket, and was now in small puddle under him. His right arm was bent awkwardly, in a way no arm should. And he could see bone through the muscle and flesh that had been torn and peeled away. His eyes were closed and his usually sandy blond hair was now tinted red, with his own blood.

Clint felt sick for a moment. This couldn’t be real. Clint could still hear David Bowie singing from his car. Clint’s left hand reached over to his right arm, the arm that was in perfectly fine conditioned unlike the right arm on him, who was laying unconscious in the middle of the street. He pinched himself, but he didn’t feel anything. He was numb. 

“No. Wake up, Clint. This is just a horrible dream. You fell asleep waiting for Fury. Or maybe you never woke up in the first place.” Clint said, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.

He mouths the rest of the song, sitting near his body, focusing on the music, til it suddenly stops. The car had died, no life left in it.

The sirens come then.


	3. 8:23 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on chapter 6, so yay. I've had two days off of work, so I'm being productive at the moment in the world of fanfiction. In other worlds, not so much.

“Am I dead?” Clint asked himself, “Am I dead?” 

Clint watched as the paramedics rushed out of the ambulance, one to him and one to the dead driver in the car that hit him. It was a drunk driver. Clint, the Amazing Hawkeye, could have been killed by a stupid, drunk driver. 

Clint was going to have dinner tonight with Bucky. Fury had said that the milk-run wasn’t for a few more days, so Bucky had made dinner plans for the two of them. Clint sniffled, and went over to his body, watching the crowd. The police were there, and so were firefighters. The police block the scene of with caution tape and cones, while the firefighters split into two groups, one to get the dead guy out of his car and another to help the paramedics with him. 

“Shit. Glasgow Coma is a seven, let’s hurry.” He heard the older paramedic yell. 

Glasgow Coma Scale, ranges from three to fifteen, the lower the worse. He was in bad condition. 

“Oh my god, it’s Hawkeye, the Avenger.” The younger paramedic said, awe in his voice. 

“Then let’s hurry up so he can heal and continue to do his job.” The older male said, motioning for the firefighters to come over with a bed. “It’s gonna take ten minutes to get there, kiddo,” He said to Clint’s unconscious body. “We’re gonna speed like a fucking demon all the way there.” 

Clint snorted and followed his body as they went to the vehicle. He followed the older gentlemen in while the younger ran around to the wheel. 

“You hang in there. There’s millions of people who will be sad to see you gone.” He said.

Yeah, more like ten people. Bucky, Tasha, Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Fury; maybe Hill, Rhodey, and Pepper. Maybe even Sam. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

He had gotten along with ‘Falcon’. They were both birds. Tony found it funny and got them t-shirts that matched, with ‘Bird Bros’ on it in big, bold, letters. 

He remembered the day Tony walked into the living room a few weeks earlier. He had thrown small packages, one wrapped in purple with the other wrapped in red, at them. “Well, open them you lot.” He said, looking at the two birds happily.

Sam looked at Steve, vaguely scared, while Clint just shrugged. He wasn’t going to look a gift, from Tony, in the mouth. He ripped it open and pulled out a soft purple t-shirt. He unfolded it and blinked. ‘Bird Bros’ was staring right back at him and he shook his head.

“Seriously, Stark? This is what you came up with?” He asked, turning the shirt around for Sam, Steve, and Tasha to see. 

“You two are the birds in this group.” Tony smirked, leaning back against the counter. 

Clint shook his head and watched as Sam opened his. While Clint’s was purple and the words in white in, Sam’s was red with the phrase in black ink. “We match, Samuel.” Clint chuckled.

“Twin Tuesday?” Sam asked, obviously joking. Clint nodded, laughing at his ‘bird bro’. 

That Tuesday, though, they both wore their shirts, with jeans, and simple black and white sneakers. The two men also had their sunglasses and leather jackets with them. “Nice,” They said once they saw the other man. 

The two bird Avengers got on well starting after that.


	4. 8:55 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School officially starts next Wednesday, and I also have a very busy work schedule that week: Awesome. But don't worry, I have chapter 5 done, and I'm still working on chapter 6.

At the hospital, Clint was rushed in. “His lung just collapsed!” The older medic yelled as three more nurses ran over. Soon behind the nurses were two doctors, that quickly looked over the notes from the medic, and quickly checking dressings. 

“Let’s get him to OR 3, now.” A doctor with slight red hair called out. 

Clint watched as they rolled his body out of the ER and towards the OR. He was going to see himself be operated on. That was messed up.

{-------------------------------------------------}

There was a lot of things wrong with Clint. He had a collapsed lung, internal bleeding from an unknown origin, and a ruptured spleen. The most serious of the injuries were the several contusions on his brain. There were also abrasions on his legs, that would need skin grafts, and on his face which would require cosmetic surgery. But the doctors were saying that he was lucky.

Clint didn’t feel lucky at the moment.

Right now, during surgery, the surgeons are removing his spleen. They’ve already inserted a tube to drain his collapsed lung, but there is still another surgeon poking around inside him trying to figure out where the bleeding is coming from. There’s not a lot that they can do to help his brain.

“We’re just going to wait and see,” the neurologist that they brought in said, looking at the CAT scan that they ran quickly before surgery. 

“Call down to the blood bank and ask for two units of AB neg, and keep two units ahead.” 

AB neg, Clint’s blood type. He knew it well from all the times he had gone to SHIELD medical or other hospitals if he couldn’t make it to SHIELD.

While the doctors debate about the music to play, they were thinking maybe jazz or classic rock, Clint would prefer the rock. Unfortunately jazz won out, and Clint sighed. He liked some jazz, but he wasn’t the biggest fan. Someone had popped in a CD, since soon Frank Sinatra’s voice started playing in the room. 

Clint had seen operating rooms before, but this time it was different. This one was small and crowded with machines, people, and blinding lights. But this one was different, too. The floor, though buffed and shiny, had scuff marks and rust streaks, possibly old bloodstains that not even bleach could get out.

But the main thing in Clint’s view is blood. It’s everywhere, on him, on the floor, on the doctors, and on equipment. No one is fazed by it, not even Clint himself as he watched doctors slice and sew and suction through a stream of his blood. And while more and more appear, they still pump blood into his body, only to drip onto the floor as the professionals work. 

All the blood brought Clint back to ever job he had ever done, either by himself as a mercenary or with SHIELD as an agent. He starts to focus on the head nurse in the room, for he didn’t want to go down that path. She has gentle fingers as she helps the doctor, and as she keeps an eye on Clint’s vitals, which are stable for the moment thankfully. 

He looks at the anesthesiologist then. The man is keeping an eye on his vitals too, just like the head nurse, along with adjusting the amounts of fluids and gas and drugs that they give Clint. And he’s doing a great job, since Clint, who’s standing in the corner of the room, doesn’t feel a thing as the surgeons yank and tug at his body. 

The anesthesiologist strokes Clint’s temples then, through his gloves. Clint smirked, Bucky had done that once while he was sick with a very bad case of the flu once or that time Clint got banged in the head with one of Nat’s batons.


	5. 11:12 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in honor of my first day of classes, I'm presenting chapter 5 of this story. I hope you like it, and this one is a bit longer than the others. 
> 
> I have chapter 6 done, and I'm now working on chapter 7. But starting now, things will be a bit more hectic as I try to figure out my work/school/social life balance (social life, ha!).

The Frank Sinatra CD had repeated twice now. The doctors decide for a new genre, and thankfully the head nurse takes charge and demands classic rock. Clint smiles then, and he thinks that this nurse might be the only one he will ever like for the rest of his life, even if it isn’t that long. ‘Eleanor Rigby’ by the Beatles start to play, and Clint just sings along, badly. There’s no one to tell him to shut up, since no one can hear him. 

The operation goes on and on. The doctors are still standing, still going strong to save Clint’s life. While they are standing still, it looks like they are trying to run a marathon. 

When ‘Dream On’ starts to play, Clint zones out a bit. He’s not sure where he truly is. He knows he’s not dead since the heart monitor is beeping along, steadily fortunately. Maybe this is astral projection, or he’s a ghost. Can he snap his fingers and be in California? Could he find Bucky and sit with him while this happens?

Just for fun, he tries to snap his fingers, but nothing. He points, like Sabrina the Teenage Witch, but still, nothing happens. He’s still in the operating room, his own new hell. 

He shrugs, and stands, seeing as he sat down during the jazz, and starts walking, hoping that he was incorporeal. But when he gets to a wall, he hits it.

“Oh shit!” He curses, holding his nose. He can’t walk through walls. He hears his heart monitor fasten up for a second, before it goes back to a normal rhythm them. 

A new nurse walks in with more blood for his body then, and Clint slips through the door behind her. He standing in some hospital hallway then, with terrible mint green walls. He sees someone at the end of the hall and walks that way. He gets to the end of the very short hallway and that’s when he sees nurses, doctors, and even patients bustling around. There’s a woman on a gurney, hair in a gauzy shower cap, with an IV hooked up to her, and she’s mumbling something. Clint walks further down the hall that is lined with ORs. 

Clint hopes that he can find someone like him, ask them what the hell is going on. But no one can see nor hear him. Maybe they figure out how to go somewhere else, someplace much funner than this hospital. 

Clint continues to follow the halls til he sees a sign for Surgery Waiting Room. Maybe, just maybe, one of his teammates is there. He wants to see Bucky and Tasha so badly. He walks into the small room, and looks around to see Tony, Bruce, and his redhead best friend. But no one else. They’re the only three there.

Tony and Bruce are chattering to each other and to a nurse that they are holding hostage, at least by the look on her face that is. Tony has grease on his hands, while Bruce still had his lab coat on. They must have rushed here from their own labs/workshops. 

Clint smiles at them, as they try to get information on his health and more, but then looks at his best friend. Natasha. She’s wearing a fitting black t-shirt that has the Avengers ‘A’ on it with black yoga pants that have a red streak down the sides of it. Who knows what she was doing in that; working out, actual yoga, possibly even shooting something. Tasha’s left leg is bouncing at a hundred miles a second, and she’s playing with the phone in her hand. 

Is she trying to get a hold of Bucky? Why isn’t Bucky here? They’ve been together for months, but he’s not sitting in this terrible room waiting for something that gives them hope that Clint will make it. 

Clint tightens his fist and then sits next to Tasha. “Well, Tash, I’m definitely not going on that milk-run job anymore,” He jokes with her, but of course, it falls on deaf ears. He notices that silver arrow necklace that he got her as a gift a few birthdays ago, as a joke. But she’s wearing it and he loves it. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

He remembers the day he met Natasha, the day he was suppose to kill her but instead, he made a friend. 

It was raining cats and dogs that night seven years ago, as he waited in the dark of an alley, waiting for the girl with bright red hair to appear. He could hear Coulson sipping coffee, from the warmth of the hotel room that the two of them were sharing. 

Clint was about to give up when he saw her. She was cute, it was no wonder that many men had lost their lives to her hands. He quietly stepped further into the alley, trying not to dry attention to him as she walked past the alley. She looked calm, like she had nothing to worry about. Had she already taken out a kill in the area. 

He quickly climbs up to the top of the building and slowly follows her. She never looks up to see if someone is watching her, and he smiles. Clint follows her to a nice hotel, a much nicer hotel than what SHIELD put Coulson and him up in. 

He got onto the street and followed her in. He moved to the manager’s room and quickly stowed away inside, accessing the computer that had everyone person’s staying there information. “Natalya.” He whispered, “Room 1429.” 

He leaves the room after he loop the cameras on that floor, and then pickpockets a master key card from some unsuspecting maid. Oh well. 

Clint went up the service elevator to the 14th floor, technically floor 13, but since hotels don’t believe in bad luck, floor 14 it is. He pressed his ear up against room 29, and heard the shower running. He slipped the keycard into the lock and slowly opened the door once the red light turned green.

He raised his gun and slowly checked the room out, only to get hit in the head from behind. She was hiding behind the door. God dammit. 

Clint fell forwards only to have Natalya jump on his back. 

They tumbled together on the floor for a bit, until Clint got the upper hand. He got his gun from the floor a foot away and pointed it at her. They stared at each other and Clint saw that she was scared, and only his age, give or take a year. 

“Look, I don’t want to kill you if I don’t have to.” Clint told her.

She was leaning against the TV stand, and she arched an eyebrow. “And you are?” She asked.

“Hawkeye, SHIELD.” He said. “I’m offering you a place there, just don’t kill me.” Clint chuckled.

“Why?” She asked, confusion clearly on her face.

“Because I don’t think you want to die, not tonight at least.” He said.

Clint watched as she debated it for a moment. “Fine,” She says.

Cling sighs with relief and then pulls out his phone, dialing Coulson. 

“Barton.” Coulson says. “Is it done?” 

“Yeah, about that, Coulson, I made a different call.” Clint said to the older man, while smiling at her new redhead coworker and possibly, and soon, friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write fight scenes to save my life, I'm sorry. 
> 
> And yay, Coulson, even if he's only in flashbacks. Yay!


	6. 3:07 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of the longest chapters so far, and hopefully it's good.
> 
> Oh, FYI: Mild cursing in this chapter, just for a couple of sentences

Finally, they move Clint to the ICU, a floor with rooms that had walls made of glass. The nurse’s center sat in the middle of the floor, so that they could easily see into the room and at their patients. There’s a nurse sitting in the middle of the computer section for staff only, while there is one roaming around the floor.

Clint’s noted two nurse that keep checking on him, with many doctors from just about every department in the hospital coming to check in on Clint. God, if he ever saw another doctor if he made it through this, it would be too soon. No offense to Bruce. Clint snorts when he sees one of the doctors; he’s probably in his fifties with his sandy blond hair, almost the same shade at Clint’s, but along with his short hair, he had muttonchops.

Clint looks back at his body then, and shakes his head. There are so many tubes attached to himself. There’s one down his throat, one down his nose to keep his stomach empty, one in his bladder, and then the usual one in his hand, the one to keep him hydrated. There are more on his chest, to keep an eye on his heartbeat, and one of his left index finger, tracking his pulse. The ventilator that is attached to the tube down his throat, keeps him breathing on a slow breath, the same type of breathing Clint would do when he was focusing on shooting something.

Only doctors and nurses have been in to see him, not even Bruce. He thought Bruce would have pulled his weight, or Tony pulled the weight himself, so that they could have come in to see him. Clint wonders back to the waiting room to see the main doctor who was performing surgery on him talking with Tasha, Bruce, and Tony.

“He’s in grave condition. There’s a large percent that he won’t make it through this, but of course, the first twenty-four hours are critical for coma patients.” The doctors says. Grave – death, he might die.

Clint sighs when he sees Tasha’s tell, biting her lip quickly, she’s worried for him. “I’ll be fine, Tash. I’m a fighter.” He tells her. 

“Can we see him?” Tasha asked the doctor, Penn, Clint reads on the badge that he wears on his front pocket.

“I’ll get a nurse to escort you in, one at a time though.” Penn said. “He’s still sedated from surgery, and the ventilator is there to help him breathe while he heals from the accident. It’s been said that coma patients hearing their loved one’s voice is helpful to their healing.”

Tasha snorts, while Tony just rolls his eyes.

“Rude.” Clint muttered.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, eyeing both Tony and Tasha carefully.

“Does he have any family that can be called. Miss Romanoff was his emergency contact.” Penn says.

Tasha nods at him. “Yeah, I’ll call him.”

Clint picked his head up then, Bucky. Tasha’s going to call Bucky. He hadn’t seen him since he left their bedroom this morning around seven thirty, seven forty. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

He met Bucky when Steve brought him home, about a year and a half ago now. 

Clint was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, his ‘Black Widow’ mug filled with coffee when Steve walked in, looking hesitant.

“Steven, did you get a woman pregnant?” Clint joked and Steve just looked at him. “That is your ‘really?’ face so, I’m gonna go with no. But what did you bring back?” Clint smiled. 

That’s when Bucky walked in, combat boots, jeans, a red Henley and a gray jacket. Clint wasn’t all that surprised to Bucky walk in, he had seen him before at SHIELD, but they never interacted. They never had missions together. But Clint knew that Bucky and Tasha were friends. 

“It’s James.” Clint said.

“AKA Bucky Barnes.” Steve said, looking at Clint like Clint was a major idiot.

Clint blinked and then looked James up and down. “Wh . . what?” Clint stumbled over his words. “He’s Bucky? What the fuck, bro? Why didn’t Tasha tell me?” 

“Tell you what, Clint?” Tasha asked him, walking into the room via the kitchen. She looked up from and saw James, Bucky, in the hall next to Steve. “Oh, hi James.”

“Natalia.” James said, slight smile on his face. 

“He’s Bucky Barnes, woman!” Clint practically yelled at his best friend. She knew how much he idolized Bucky growing up. 

Tasha just shrugged and went to make herself some tea. 

Clint looked at her baffled. “How could you not tell me? I feel betrayed.” He said, miffed at his best friend, the only person who he called his family.

“Sorry about that Clint. I heard you’re a pretty good shot, though.” James, Bucky, said, smiling at him.

And damn, the smile did things to Clint. Clint shook his head then and looked at James slightly hurt. “Pretty good? Excuse me, I’ve been called the best shot on the planet. I’m fucking amazing.” 

“We’ll see.” Bucky said.

“You’re on.” Clint challenged Bucky, and Bucky just nodded at Clint. 

“You got it.” Bucky smiled. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

The next day, the both sat in the range that Tony had set up in Avenger’s Tower. Clint was shooting with his bow while Bucky had his rifle. 

“Five shots?” Bucky asked him as Clint strung his bow.

Clint nodded and then grabbed his quiver, pulling arrows out, leaving only five normal arrows in it. “The elderly first.” He joked, and Bucky just rolled his eyes. 

They both shot at the same time, each of the five times. 

When it was done, they made their way to the targets and Clint smiled, all of his arrows were all together, with the tips all in the same place. He looked over and saw a single hole, more like an oval, on Bucky’s target. 

“So?” Clint asked, removing the arrows to looks directly at the torn paper. 

“It looks like a tie.” Bucky sighed, slightly frowning.

“Oh, the old man doesn’t like that he tied with a youngster?” Clint joked and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever.” Bucky said, “Rematch tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah.” Clint smiled.

And that was the start of their friendship. And their love, well, that’s a story for another time.


	7. 3:48 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go. Chapter 7! Chapter 8 is done, Chapter 9 is mostly done, and I have the very beginning of Chapter 10 done (First 3 sentences done). 
> 
> I have all the energies right now, and I need to be up in like 7 hrs for school.

Rhodey and Sam are now in the waiting room with Tony, Bruce, and Tasha. There’s still no Bucky and Steve. And all Clint wants is to see his partner. Where the hell was Bucky?

Clint sits in a chair in his hospital room, watching the rise and fall of his chest as the ventilator breathes for him. Clint wonders where Pepper is. Pepper and him got along well, and he liked the strawberry blonde female. 

“Do the docs know if he’s gonna make it?” He hears Sam ask outside of the Clint’s hospital room.

“No. But we have been told that his arm, it’s severely broken. They make even have to go back in and pin it. They’re gonna let him rest, let the rest of his body heal beforehand.” Tony said. 

“And he may not be able to shoot properly, ever again.” Tasha said. 

Clint freezes, his blood turns cold. He may never be able to shoot properly. No. Shooting his bow was his life, it was the one and only thing he knew, ever since he was a little kid. If he couldn’t shoot, what the hell could he do? He got a GED because Coulson had forced him to, but technically, he’s still a 2nd grade drop-out. 

“No, no.” He muttered, and that’s when he heard the machines attached to himself going haywire. 

He saw all the Avengers still as the watch a doctor and a nurse run into the room. This really was his fight, if he wanted to stay or not. This was up to him. 

He took a deep breath and his heart slowly went back to normal rhythm.

“Where’s Bucky?” Tasha asked Sam.

“He and Steve went out of town for a better run. I’ll try to contact Steve again.” Sam said, pulling out his phone. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

Clint was nine when he first held a bow, and right then, he knew that that was what he was going to be doing for the rest of his life. Maybe not always in the circus, but this was his passion. He loved the feel of the weight of string as he pulled back, the slight ruffle of the feathers as the arrow flew through the air, and the thud it made when it hit it’s target.

He was amazing at it, he become Bullseye’s apprentice, and he knew Barney wasn't happy about that. But Barney took up with Jacques, the Swordsman, and became friends with some other guys from the circus. 

He trained hard for a year, and Bullseye was impressed. He soon became ‘The Amazing Hawkeye’ and people loved his act under the big tent.

They were doing a show in Missouri when he saw Barney sneak into Old Man Carter’s room. He waited in the shadows until Barney was out, stuffing something in his bag. Clint followed his older brother back to their tent that they shared and saw Barney stuffing the money that was now in his bag into a lock box, that had Jacques’ initials on it.

“Barney?” Ten year old Clint asked, not sure of what he was actually seeing. 

“Dammit kid,” Barney sighed. “You weren’t suppose to see that.” 

“Did you steal from Carter?” Clint asked, shocked that his brother would do that. Barney was his older brother, the best guy in the world.

“Clint, I’m doing it for us. You don’t want to live here for the rest of your life, do you? Because I sure as hell don’t.” Barney said, giving Clint a look that he remembered their father giving them. The ‘be-careful-what-you’re-about-to-say-next’ look.

Clint gulped and then shook his head. “You shouldn’t Barney, it’s wrong.” 

“What are you going to do, Clint? Huh? You’re ten, you can’t do shit.” Barney said, shaking his head at his little brother. “You’ll understand why I’m doing this someday.” 

“No.” Clint said, turning on his heels to go tell Carter right then.

“Clint.” He heard a new voice say. It was Jacques. Clint turned around and shook his head. 

“You got Barney into trouble! Did Bullseye do this too?” Clint knew that Jacques and Bullseye were good friends. Even at ten, he would have been surprised to see the two not knowing the others’ secrets.

“You shouldn’t have seen that.” Bullseye’s voice came from behind him.

Clint stood still, his blood turning cold. Something bad was going to happen, and it was going to happen it to him.

After the punches and hits from Jacques and Bullseye, and that were the ones Clint could stand, Barney punched him. His older brother, the person who was suppose to protect him, the person who had protected him, just hurt him. 

Clint played unconscious, letting the three men leave. When he knew the coast was clear, he grabbed a bag full of clothes, along with his bow and some arrows, leaving the circus. He didn’t want any part of that place anymore, not when this could be his future.


	8. 4:17 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twice in one week, nice! This is another long one too. 
> 
> Chapter 10 is done, and I hope that you like that chapter when it comes time for me to release it. Onto Chapter 11, but later, since I have classes from 10 to 7 today. Ew.

Clint’s staring out the window, watching as the sky thought about raining. The clouds were dark, and he could feel the electricity in the air. A thunder storm was coming.

Clint looks back at himself in the bed, and there’s another doctor checking up on. In the past hour, so many doctors have come and looked over his injuries, and discussed what they could do.   
Another person is there, her name Hannah, and she said that she was going to the go go-to-point between the doctors and the Avengers, and she looks exhausted. She’s only been here not even an hour, and she’s tired already.

“Me too, Hannah,” Clint says, sighing and bringing his knees to his chest as he sits on the couch. He lays his head down on them and closes his eyes. 

She’s talked with the nurses, the doctors, and now, she’s going to talk to the Avengers. 

“Ms. Romanoff? I’m Hannah Franklin. I’m the social worker put on Mr. Barton’s case.” She introduces herself to Tasha. 

All the Avengers that are there (Tasha, Tony, Bruce, Sam, and Rhodey) look at her, with hope in their eyes. Tasha stills herself, knowing that Hannah may have bad news about her best friend, the man she considers her brother. 

“Mr. Barton is still unconscious at the moment. But the respiratory therapists are in with him now. They’re checking to see how his lungs are functioning and if he can be taken off the ventilator.”   
“Good news?” Sam asks. 

Hannah nods and Clint snorts. Oh, hope. “It’s a good step in the right direction if he can. It means that his lungs are healing and his internal injuries are stabilizing. The main concerns though are still how broken arm and the contusions on his brain. You have been told about the arm, right?” The social worker is still behind on what they’ve been told and what they haven’t learned.

“We have.” Bruce said. “Any ideas on what they’re going to do?” 

“They’re gonna let him rest, let his body rest from surgeries, and then they’ll go in, pin it, and fix anything else they see.” Hannah tells them, confirming what Penn said earlier. 

“The contusions?” Tasha asks Hannah, knowing what contusions can mean.

“It’s hard to say how bad they are at the moment. We don’t know how bad the brain damage is, if there is any, or if he’ll wake up on his own. The first twenty-four hours are the most critical, but Clint’s getting the best care possible.” 

They’ve finally said his name. Not Agent Barton or Mister Barton, but Clint. This is really happening. God, he just wanted to be held by Bucky, while being told that this is just a horrible dream. “Where the fuck are you Bucky?” Clint muttered, looking back outside to the dark sky. 

“Can we go see him, the doctor said that an hour ago.” Tony said. They’ve seen him through the windows of the room, but they’ve haven’t actually been inside.

“Of course, two at a time.” Hannah said. 

Before anyone could say anything, Tasha strode right past them and into Clint’s room.

She pulled up a chair next to Clint’s bed and sat down. She wasn’t going to move, not until Bucky came at least. 

Tony walks in next, and leans against the wall, near Tasha. “Shit Birdie.” Tony sighs and pulls out his phone.

“Who are you texting?” Tasha asks, not looking back at him.

“Pepper. She wanted to be informed. Apparently Fury contacted her and wants to be kept in the loop, through Pepper.” Tony says as he types in a message. “Why was he out this morning?” 

“Fury got him to do a milk-run job with some newbies.” Tasha responds. 

A nurse walks in then, not one of the two that were assigned to him, to write down Clint’s vitals, and she smiles at them. “You know, he’s very aware of what’s going on. You should talk to him.” 

Tony just snorts and Tasha shakes her head.

“You may think that the doctors and us nurses are running the show. Nuh-uh. It’s all him. He’s the only one who can pull himself through this. Talk to him, tell him you’re here waiting for him to wake up. But tell him, too, that he can take as long as he needs. You’re waiting for him.” 

Clint chuckles at the nurse and at Tony’s expression. 

Tasha nods though, and takes Clint’s hand in hers. “Ne toropites', yastreb” (Take your time, hawk.) She whispers to Clint. 

Just then, thunder rumbled loudly in the sky, and the rain started to pour down. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

Clint and Bucky’s first date was on a rainy afternoon, much like today is. Clint had wanted to go see a movie, but then it started to downpour half an hour before they were suppose to leave. 

Clint sighed, he didn’t want to go out in weather like this. He plopped himself on the couch and sighed even louder than before.

“We can watch movies here?” Bucky chuckled at him.

“I know, but I wanted to go through the whole movie theatre experience today. Tickets too pricey, food to pricey, talking during the movie and getting hushed out, other people talking during the movie.” Clint explained to Bucky.

“Well, the food and movie are free, we can talk during the movie, no one hushing at us, and we don’t have to deal with annoying people.” Bucky said, shrugging at Clint.

“But that’s the fun of going to the movies. God Bucky.” Clint chuckled.

Bucky shook his head and headed into the kitchen. Clint heard things being moved around and things being opened.

“What are you doing?” Clint called out to this partner. Boyfriend just sounded weird. 

“Put on some movie. Doesn’t Jarvis have access to every movie ever made?” Bucky called back to him.

Clint nodded and picked up the remote. He slowly went through the long list of movies that Tony had put on Jarvis’ collection. Clint smiled when he saw the perfect movie. “Got the movie!” The yelled at Bucky, just as Bucky walked in.

Bucky was carrying a tray with a bowl of popcorn and different bags of candy on in. “I’ll get the drinks.” Bucky said, putting the food down. “What are we watching?” 

“Jurassic Park.” Clint smiled.

“Dinosaurs?” Bucky asked and Clint just nodded.

“You told me to pick a movie. I’ve picked one of the best movies ever. And the computer nerd looks like Fury, but has both eyes and hair.” Clint smiled. 

Bucky shook his head, but came back with a cup of coffee for Clint and some beer for himself. 

As the movie played, Clint and Bucky cuddled together on the couch.

“He does look like Fury. Holy shit.” Bucky muttered when they first see the character. 

“Exactly.” 

At the end of the movie, Clint asked, “Wasn’t that an awesome movie. Too bad the sequels were crap. Though they’re making Jurassic World, hopefully it’ll be good.” 

Bucky nodded. Bucky was just staring at Clint, seeing the man he loved talk about something he was passionate about, that wasn’t archery. Bucky just leaned towards Clint and kissed him.

Clint froze for a second, but soon happily kissed back. 

When they parted, Clint asked, “What was that for?”

Bucky shrugged. “I wanted to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translate was from Google Translator, so I'm sorry if it's wrong.


	9. 5:30 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had time to write, I have three tests this Wednesday and Thursday, and I am behind on the homework. Yay school and work! No. 
> 
> But I have chapter 10 done too.

Tasha is still in the chair that she pulled up over an hour ago. Tony left, with the others rotating in and out. But now, it’s just Tasha. 

But before Tony had left, he looked over at Clint and asked, “Does he get to decide?”

“Decide what?” Tasha asks, not sure where Tony is going with his questioning, or his thinking. But no one ever does. 

He just looks at Tasha, “What do you think?” He asks back.

Tasha sighs and shakes her head. “Maybe. I don’t know Tony.” 

Clint sighs at them. “I think it is.” He says aloud, but no one in the room hears him. If he lives, if he stays; that’s all up to him. And that terrifies him. 

How can he possibly decide this? Yes, he wants to live, but his future is so uncertain if he stays. Will he be able to shoot anymore? Will he be able to stay on the team? IF he does stay, what would he do? Hell, what would he do if the left? 

Clint doesn’t believe in God, never had a reason to. But he does believe that nurse. This show, he’s running it. He decides this, and this is more terrifying than anything that has happened today, or anything he learned over the course of the last ten hours.

Clint knew that he would finally make a decision once Bucky was here. God, he wanted to punch Bucky because he wasn’t there, sitting in the seat that Tasha was occupying. Where the hell was Bucky? 

{-------------------------------------------------}  
Clint and Bucky’s first miscommunication was a harsh one.

Bucky was talking with Steve about something when Clint was passing by to grab a cup of coffee. 

“I’m just saying, Stevie, a bow and arrow. It’s ridiculous.” Bucky said, and Clint heard it clearly.

Clint swallowed the lump in his throat. Did Bucky think that he was ridiculous, for using a paleolithic weapon against aliens and supervillains? 

Clint shook his head and went back to his room, ignoring his want for coffee. The man he loved just called him ridiculous. He locked the door behind him and just curled into a ball on the floor, his back to the door. 

It was hours later when Bucky tried to get in. “Clint, you in there?”

Clint hugged his knees to his chest and hide his face. 

“Clint, Jay told me that your in there. C’mon, open the door for me.” Bucky said through the closed door. He jiggled the handle, and Clint heard a sigh. “Okay, fine. But dinner’s going to be in half an hour. If you don’t show up for that, I’m sending Tasha up.”

Clint heard his footsteps recede and he sighed. He knew he was the weakest Avenger, the only true human there, and then add the archaic weapon. Tony, Sam, and Rhodey were human too, but they had their suits. He was weak, human, and fragile. And sometimes, he was amazed that they let him onto the team. Did they actually want him, or did Steve just grab the closest pilot and keep him on out of pity? 

Clint finally moved a few minutes later after hours, and he heard his back pop in a few places. He slowly stood and walked out of his room, and to the stairwell, to go up, not down. 

He relaxed a bit once he was on the roof. Heights always relaxed him, ever since he was kid. It helped him think. 

“Found you.” He heard Bucky say behind him.

“Hi.” Clint smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, walking closer to his lover.

“I heard you earlier.” Clint whispered. 

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“Ridiculous.” Clint said louder, and Bucky sighed. Bucky knew what Clint was talking about, and where Clint’s messed up head jumped to. 

“Clint, you didn’t hear the rest of the thought than. You are not ridiculous, you’re amazing. Way out of my league. I may have said it was ridiculous, but it’s also amazing. You are the best shot, equal to me, in the world. I was saying how it’s ridiculous that you can out shoot everyone, even me now and then, with a fucking bow and arrow. That’s fucking awesome. You are the best Avenger, don’t tell Tony, but you are. And you are an amazing partner, Clint. You’re also the best bird here too. Don’t ever doubt yourself. Or I’ll tell Tasha and let her kick your ass. Got it?” Bucky said, now barely six inches away from Clint.

Clint nodded. “Out shoot even you, huh?” He smirked then.

“Yeah, even me. Now, can we go inside and grab food. I’m starving, and it’s cold up here.” 

Clint nodded and took Bucky’s stretched out hand. 

Bucky pulled Clint to him and kissed him. “Don’t be an idiot.”


	10. 6:37 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived last week, but I didn't get any fun writing done, so I don't have chapter 11 even started. Sorry

He’s here.

Bucky’s here. Clint hasn’t seen him since eleven hours ago, when he kissed him goodbye, leaving the room to head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. 

Clint’s been hanging out on the roof of the hospital, thinking about everything, and he wanted away from his own body, and the reminder of what may be.

But Bucky’s here now. He’s here and he can help Clint. He may not know this, but he will. 

Clint sees Bucky running from the parking lot, faster than Clint’s ever seen him run, with Steve not far behind him. They must have just gotten back from the run and the long drive from wherever. 

Clint runs back to his room, rushing past everyone who never sees him, til he’s in the waiting room, panting just like Bucky’s panting too. Thankfully the rain has lightened up in the last hour, so it’s just spitting, and Bucky’s barely wet. 

“Where?” Bucky asks Sam.

Sam just points towards the room, and Bucky sees Tasha’s red hair. He nods and gulps. His face is blank, like he’s not sure what he’s about to walk in and see, about what has happened to his partner. 

Clint meets up with Bucky outside of Clint’s ICU room. “I’m here, don’t worry Bucky.” Clint whispers, still out of breath.

Bucky walks in and freezes. Clint’s colour is a bit better, but he’s still as white as the blankets on the bed, with wires and tubes everywhere. 

“What happened? Sam just said Clint was in the hospital.” Bucky asks Tasha, and Clint can tell that Bucky’s trying not to show that his voice is breaking.

“He was driving into SHIELD, and he got hit by a drunk driver. The drunk died on impact. Clint was somehow thrown from the car, through the windshield. He had a collapsed lung and internal bleeding, they fixed it. He has abrasions on his legs, arms, and his face that will need either skin grafts or cosmetic surgery, they removed part of his spleen, and even some of his liver that was severely damaged from going through the windshield. He also has contusions on his brain, so he may have brain damage, and he has a severely broken arm, he may never shoot again.” Tasha tells Bucky the truth, bluntly. “His heartbeat was a little off a couple of minutes ago, and even now, but it’s settling back.” 

Bucky nods and moves to the other side of Clint, across from Tasha. “How long ago?” 

“We got the call around half an hour after you and Steve left. We couldn’t get a hold of either of you. Doctor’s think he’s going to pull through, if he wakes up.” 

“If he wakes up?” Bucky asks, confused. “Why wouldn’t he wake up, Nat?”

“The brain contusions. They may be worse than the doctors think, he may have brain damage, he may not, and he may or may not wake up.” Tasha explains to the ex-Hydra soldier.

“Shit.” Bucky mutters. Bucky runs a hand through is hair and then sits down in a chair. “Any good news?” He asks, needing a small thread of hope.

Tasha shook her head. “They tested to see if his lungs were well enough to breath on his own, they’re not yet. And they need to go in soon to fix the arm before it becomes too settled where they would then have to rebreak the arm. Clint’s going to have a long recovery period if . . . if he wakes up.” Tasha said. “Im going to the cafeteria, do you want anything?” She asks, standing and stretching. She had barely moved from that chair in the last two hours.  
Bucky shook his head and just looked at Clint. 

Cling saw Lena, the nurse that wasn’t his that kept coming to check on him. She poked her head into his room and smiled at Bucky.

“You must be this one’s partner. I’m Lena.” She said, smiling at Bucky.

“Bucky.” He muttered, his eyes not leaving Clint’s body once to look at the nurse.

“You know, he can hear you. Tell him to take his time, but let him know that you’re waiting for his return.” Lena smiled, before departing the room.

“I love you,” was all Bucky muttered to Clint’s unconscious body. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

The first time Bucky told Clint that he loved the archer was when Clint was in medic, high on pain meds, after getting stabbed in the side. Thankfully it was only a flesh wound, but it still hurt and it needed to be cleaned up and sewn shut. This whole debacle wasn’t long after their first ‘fight.'

Clint was chuckling, for no reason except that he was high, and Bucky was just smiling at his dorky archer.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked. H knew that Clint was only happy from the meds, but it still made him happy to see Clint smiling and laughing.

Clint just hummed in content, and then started humming the ‘Stark Spangled Man’, Steve’s theme song from the forties.

Bucky burst into laughter. He hadn’t heard the song in forever, and he had forgotten how hilarious it was. “Oh god, Clint.” Bucky chuckled. “I love you.”

Those three words brought Clint down from his high immediately and he just looked at Bucky in shock.

“What?” Bucky asked, noticing Clint’s face.

“You love me?” Clint asked.

Shit, Bucky thought that he had only thought that. He quickly recovered. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Good, because I love you too. And I want to do things to you mister once I’m out of this bed.” Clint said, smirking at him.

Bucky shook his head. “Nuh-uh, you have to heal first. I’m not gonna let you pop a stitch in the middle of an orgasm, honey.” Bucky smirked. “Tasha would frown upon that.” 

He leaned over and kissed Clint. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”


	11. 7:40 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11!!! I also have Chapters 12-14 done, and going to start on 15 sometime by Tuesday. Yay. 
> 
> And there's probs going to be like 17 chapters of this. And I'm debating if I should do the second book of this series. And if I do, should it be Bucky's pov or Clint's again? If you have any thoughts of opinions, go ahead and comment - please?

“Tasha told me, I thought you’d like some space,” Steve said, finally walking into Clint’s hospital room. “Do you need anything?”

“To punch the guy who did this to Clint.” Bucky said. “I know he’s dead though, and I’m glad for it.”

Steve nodded as he sat down in a chair near Bucky. “I understand. Any food though, something to drink?”

Bucky shook his head.

Clint sighed. “Bucky, you should eat. You’re a super soldier, you need the food.” Clint told his lover, but of course, no one heard him.

Clint yawned, he was getting tired, but at the same time, he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t need the sleep. Clint knew how to read monitor, his heartbeat was getting slower, but it was still in normal range for someone in his condition.

Tasha walked in then, with a coffee and a sandwich for someone. “Eat, Clint would hit you if he could.” She muttered to him.

Bucky took the food, but just set it aside. “Do the doctors have anything new?” He asked Tasha.

Tasha shook her head. “Nothing new. They’re just watching his condition at the moment. He hasn’t gotten better, but at the same time, he hasn’t gotten worse.”

Bucky sighed, and stood. Today was a disaster, at least for his feelings. Clint was perfectly fine, happy, this morning, and now he’s barely responsive to doctors and in a coma, and if, if, he wakes up, it’ll be months of hard work to not be able to shoot. 

God, Bucky would take a day with a grumpy Clint over this. This was the wrong type of silence that happened when Clint was asleep or just grumpy. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

Clint would have both good and bad days, and the bad days were bad. Clint would be grumpy all day, and he would either hide in his room or in the vents, so not even Tasha or Bucky could find him.

There was one time where Clint had nightmares all night, and it put him in a mood. Clint stayed in bed all day, grumpy and slightly depressed. The faces of his victims running through his mind.

Bucky came in around noon, with pizza for Clint. “I got you your favourite.” 

Clint hummed, acknowledging Bucky, but didn’t go to grab the food.

Bucky sat on the bed, putting the pizza down on the bedside table, and just put a hand on Clint’s calf. “I’m here, doll. I’ll be here as long as you need me.” Bucky told Clint. 

Clint just nodded and slipped into his still, quiet self at the moment.

Bucky grabbed a book, his hand still resting on Clint’s calf, letting Clint know that he was there. 

It was an hour later, when Bucky was now sitting up near Clint’s chest, when Clint moved and threw an arm across Bucky’s lap. 

“Sorry.” Clint whispers to Bucky.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Bucky told him, running a hand through Clint’s hair. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here.” 

{-------------------------------------------------}

He walked away, out of Clint’s room. He needed fresh air, and not think about Clint being stuck in the hospital, in a coma. 

Clint watches Bucky leave him, and he frowns.


	12. 8:07 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter this week. I still haven't started on chapter 15, since I have been dealing with changing my major at school. 
> 
> You guys might hate me for this, so please do forgive me. Don't hate me. 
> 
> Opinions on if you want me to do the second book of this series. And would you like Bucky's POV or continue with Clint 's POV.

Clint wanted to throw whatever he could grab. He wanted to break the glass windows and walls. Bucky just left. Could he not deal with this? With what Clint might have to deal with if he wakes up. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw. 

Clint didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to be here at this hospital. He didn’t want to be in this ghost-like state, where all he could do was observe. He needed to do something, or he was going to lose it. 

He wanted it all to go away. He didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

The machines hooked to Clint go haywire then. Every machine is screaming at the world.

Steve and Tasha go on the defense while a doctor and two nurses run towards him, one nurse being Lena.

Lena and the doctor run to Clint while the other, slightly older nurse pushes Tasha and Steve out of the room. He sees Tony and Bruce running over to where the other two watch from outside. 

“His BP is falling!” A doctor calls out, “His pulse ox too!” 

“He’s tachycardic.” Lena says tells them.

“Code Blue, code blue in ICU,” the PA system announces citizens of this world. 

A doctor starts to press on Clint’s stomach, trying to figure out why Clint is worsening. “His stomach’s rigid. Ultrasound!” He orders.

Lena runs off and comes back with the portable ultrasound, a laptop looking thinking, with cold blue gel for the probe. 

“Fluid in the abdomen, surgery?” A doctor asks Lena.

“Splenectomy and a liver resection.” Lena informs him. “Car crash.” 

The doctor nods and then grabs the chart, “Penn was the doctor, call him back, he’s still on call. We need to find the bleeder, and why there’s one.” 

Lena and the Doctor, Jinks, detach the wires and tubes holding Clint to the room, while two more nurses come in. 

They quickly wheel Clint past his friends and to the OR, for another emergency surgery. 

Clint doesn’t follow them this time. He backs into the corner of the room, this time, and falls to the floor. It’s finally quiet - peace and quiet filling this empty room. He pulls his knees to his chest and sits there. 

God, he’s so done with this. He wonders what the afterlife is like. Will it be a place that is his own personal love, archery and dogs everywhere? Would there be a fake Bucky there too?

He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head, and then closes his eyes, wanting some peace and quiet.

{-------------------------------------------------}

There were mornings, after battles, that Clint just loved. How the sun would slowly start to shine through his windows, 60 stories into the air, and the golden light spreads throughout the room.

The golden light bounces off Bucky’s metal arm, making the silver shine, and Clint just stares at it. He’s listening to the noise from the city far below them, listens to his and Bucky’s own breathing.

They are both alive after last night. They are bruised and cut up, but they are breathing, and laying in each other’s arms. Clint has one of his arms thrown over Bucky’s pillow, so Bucky’s head is on his arm, while Bucky’s metal arm is thrown over Clint’s middle, gripping him softly; making sure that Clint’s there.

“Why are you up?” Bucky’s voice whispers into the room.

Clint looks up at Bucky’s face, and Bucky still has his eyes closed. “Just am. It’s peaceful, quiet, I like it.” Clint tells his lover.

Bucky nods, and grips Clint tighter, pulling them closer together. “Go back to sleep.” Bucky mutters, his words not quite slurring together.

Clint smiles and lets Bucky readjust his head. Instead of his arm, Bucky’s now on his shoulder. Clint bends his arm to slowly play with Bucky’s long hair.

“I will in bit. I like this time of the day.” Clint tells him, and then looks out the window.

Maybe this is what heaven was like, just peace and quiet, and it looked amazing.

Maybe this is what Clint’s heaven would be. This morning over and over, the two of them just curled together, listening to each other’s peace. And to be honest, this would be the best heaven Clint could ever think of.


	13. 11:37 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sprained my right wrist, so now I'm useless a everything since my right is my dominate hand. Haven't had much time to work on the last few chapters.   
> There's probably gonna be like 17 chapters in total. Sorry.

Clint is back in his ICU room. He’s back attached to the multiple machines that he was hooked to before. There had been a small leak around where they had to remove part of his liver, and it burst open.

Only Clint and a nurse are in his room. The other Avengers are still talking with someone, away in the waiting room, where they can’t see him. They can’t see how Clint has lost his colour again; they can’t see that Clint is hooked up to more blood since he lost plenty in during the surgery.

Clint wanders over to Tasha, and he sees Bucky there. Bucky who looks worried to death, like Clint might be dead, but Clint can’t seem to care at the moment. Everyone else (Sam, Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey) are there too, listening to Penn and Hannah talk about his condition.

“Mr. Barton’s health has declined. The latest surgery has put even more stress on his body.” Penn told them.

Tasha and Bucky stilled.

“Any good news?” Tony snarked at Penn.

Penn shook his head. “I have another patient I have to attend to.” Penn then walked off, to let Hannah deal with the World’s Mightiest Heroes, all slightly pissed, and all that anger directed at her.

“Good job, dick.” Clint muttered, leaning against the window, looking at the dark sky. He both loved New York, and hated it. He loved it since it was full of people and new and interesting things. He hated it because you could never see the stars unless you were far away from the city.

“Clint’s back in this ICU room, but it’s past visiting hours.” Hannah said.

“But we’re family,” Tony said.

“You’re not legally family. You may be his emergency contact, but you’re not legally family.” Hannah said, and Tasha glared at her.

“Back off,” Clint said, shaking his head. “She’s just doing her job, Tash.”

Tasha sighed and then walked away from them, to stare out the window. It was just drizzling now, not pouring like it was earlier.

Bored of watching his friends and loved ones sit around, all being stubborn and not going home to sleep, where’s Pepper when you need her? Clint wanders around the hospital.

By now, he knows he doesn’t have magical powers, he can’t manipulate things at his will, and he can’t walk through walls. He’s there, like everyone else in this building, but he just can’t be heard or seen. He’s invisible, a ghost. He has no powers to wake himself up and be alright.

Clint walks away from his family. He knows that their words and that their wishes and hopes will not get him to wake up. It’s his job to do that. But doesn’t know how. He’s not sure how to wake himself up, or if he even wants to. He’s not so sure on the idea of waking up anymore.

He wants to so that his loved ones won’t suffer. But he’ll be suffering. He’ll be dealing with months of physio, months of therapy, and then, even after all that, he still might not be able to shoot. He thought seeing Bucky would make him determine to wake up, but it hasn’t. Or maybe this latest surgery has him down, and that nothing can make him better.

He’ll be disappointing someone with whatever choice he makes. Him or all his friends? Who does he want to make suffer more? Which choice can he deal with better?

{-------------------------------------------------}

People always leave Clint, whether they meant to or not. His parents, his brother, his mentors, and Coulson. He knows Coulson and his mother’s death were at least accidents. His dad was an abusive drunk and Loki is an asshole. But his brother and his mentors, those hurt him, deeply, since they betrayed and left him on their own. And that’s the kind of hurt that would affect the Avengers if he chose to go. 

His mother was a sweetheart to him, and Clint has always looked back and wondered how his mother ended up with his father. He heard through the neighbors, after his parent’s funeral, that they were high school sweethearts.

His dad had a hard time with the butcher shop he owned, and turned to booze, and then turned to beating his mother. And then Barney came along and then he came along, and the abuse just continued with them. 

Then the most confusing day came when the police knocked on the door. Barney, since he was older, answered it. Clint was just around the corner, listening to their conversation. He heard the police tell Barney that their parents were dead. He was happy that their father was gone, but their mother. 

She used to bake cookies with him, when their father was away. She would sing him lullabies and held him close if he had a nightmare, when he thought nightmares were just things your brain made up, and she should would tell him how much she loved him, that he was her world. 

And Coulson. Agent Phillip J. Coulson. The man who gave Clint a second chance to have a life, a good life. He didn’t have to be a gun for hire, a mercenary. Yeah, he would still kill people for SHIELD, but for good. Not for the highest bidder. 

And Coulson become Clint’s best friend, and a father figure to him, since his last few ones were crap. Coulson always made sure Clint was sleeping enough, eating enough, making it to medical sine he skipped now and then. 

And now, he would be the one leaving. He was the one that made sure Tony and Bruce ate now and then when they would live in their labs for days at a time. He kept making sure Steve was up to date with pop culture, with the help of Sam (He was very behind, but he knew the most recent things). He was the one Tasha and Bucky trusted to the most, at any time of day. They came to him when they were at the most vulnerable, and they let him see through their broken masks. 

How could he deal with letting them all go, and not being there for them?


	14. 2:03 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't had time to write because me right hand is still in a splint, going to a doctor later today. So this is the last chapter that I have written, but I still have 3 more planned out. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter

Tasha’s now in Clint’s room, no one else. Tony had argued and called lawyers, even this late at night, or this early in the morning. The hospital had allowed only one person in Clint’s room at a time. Oddly enough, Tasha won that discussion with Bucky.

Clint can see Bucky outside, talking to Steve. Bucky’s stressed, rigid. He’s scared, for Clint.

Clint focuses back on Tasha. She’s sitting in the chair next to Clint’s bed, her head in one of her hands, her hair falling over the side. 

She sits up then, and Clint can tell that something is on Tasha’s mind. She reaches out and touches part of Clint’s hand, that isn’t covered in gauze and bandages. 

She sighs and then wipes the fallen tears away, with her hand that isn’t holding Clint’s.

Tasha’s crying. Clint doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen Tasha cry, even in the six years that they have known each other. “Tasha,” He whispers, his voice breaking. He’s starting to cry now.  
Tasha leans forward and hold Clint’s hands with both of hers. She looked down at the floor, blinks a few times, and then look back at Clint’s face.

“It’s okay, yastreb (hawk).” She whispers to Clint’s sleeping form. “I understand if you want to go, Clint. You may never shoot again. And I know everyone wants you to stay, I want my little brother to stay too, more than anything I have ever wanted in my life, Clint.” She tells him, but then her voice cracks. She sighs, but then continues. “But that’s what we want, what I want. And I understand why it might be why you don’t want it so. Just know, that I’ll understand if you go. It’s okay if you want to leave us, it’s okay to go. I know you’ve been fighting for a very long time. So, if you want to stop, you can. It’s okay.” 

Clint sniffles and nods. He’s tired of watching this shit show that is his life now. And yeah, he’ll probably never shoot again, and if he can, he’ll never be as good as he was just yesterday morning. He gets up and sits next to Tasha.

He watches as Tasha wipes the tears away again, and then leans her head against Clint’s severely broken arm.

And it’s so quiet now, except for the beeping of the machines to tell the world that he’s still alive. Clint chuckles at that. This isn’t living, this is just waiting for the door in the sky to open for him to step through. “Thank you, Tasha.” He whispers to her. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

A year into Clint and Tasha’s partnership, they made a deal. If either of them said that they were tired of this job, of this life, the other wouldn’t interfere with whatever they were going to do. 

It was after Budapest, both were in a shared hospital room. Tasha had been shot twice in the leg and Clint had been hit by shrapnel by a bomb. Tasha didn’t want Clint out of her sights, to Coulson had gotten them into one large hospital room to share. 

Clint was awake, but he was just staring at the ceiling. Tasha was already out of the field when the bomb went off - she had been shot a few hours earlier, and was on surgery at the time. Many innocents were killed, and Clint couldn’t stop it. 

“Clint?” Tasha asked, looking over at him.

“I’m tired, Tasha.” He whispered, closing his eyes. He had the blood of so many innocents, and the other night, even more was added. He couldn’t handle this type of job anymore. 

Tasha nodded. She didn’t know if he was going to stop and let the wounds win, or if he was going to leave SHIELD. She didn’t want either, but they said they would let the other do what they wished to. 

They were both released from the hospital four days later, and Clint went to his apartment in Bed-Stuy. Clint started to pack his apartment up, and he had even typed of a letter of resignation. SHIELD had told him that they would forgive his past if he did a certain number of jobs there, and that number was hit years ago.

Tasha came by one day and saw everything. “Do you have a destination?” She simply asked, watching Clint pack up his living room.

He nodded. “Yeah, out of the country. It’s a safe house that not even Coulson knows about.” 

Tasha nodded at him. “Alright. Just call to tell me you make it there okay, and try to keep in contact?” 

“I will. Tasha . . . thanks, for everything.” 

Tasha smiled at him. “Of course. Just, be safe Clint. We care about you . . . I care about you, and I’ll miss you.” Tasha left then, left Clint to rethink things.

Monday morning, four days later, Clint was there, talking with Coulson and even Fury. He wasn’t acting like he was trying to hide something. Clint could hide his feelings and emotions, but Tasha could always see through him. 

Clint was staying. And Tasha smiled and slowly made her way to them, and joined into their conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you like this, please don't kill me or hate me for this latest update. 
> 
> Translation was from google translate.


	15. 4:27 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. I just wrote this chapter, too. It's a longer one than my usual chapters. 
> 
> I have tendinitis, pretty bad, and the cortisone shot did not help, it in fact made it worse. I can't write and I can't type for long periods without my hand hurting. 
> 
> Two chapters left, don't hurt me more.

Clint can’t stop humming ‘Highway to Hell’, he’s been humming it since Tasha left his bedside, half an hour ago. There’s been other songs, but he always returns to that song. He knows that if he leaves, there’s a good chance that that is where he is going to end up. With the amount of blood on his ledger, it would be a miracle if he ended up upside. 

While humming, he’s thinking about the afterlife. He’s not sure what goes on there. He’s going to die someday, whether it is this morning or in fifty years. He could imagine his mother there, smiling at him, happy to see him, but also pissed that he’s here. That he chose to die when he had a chance to survive and make a difference. 

And then Coulson. Coulson would be pissed, but he would understand that Clint couldn’t fight anymore. He, just like Tasha, would understand why it would be hard for Clint to stay on earth, living. 

Clint stops humming when the doors to his hospital room opens. It’s Bucky. Bucky hasn’t been inside since he left, around eight last night, eight hours. Sure, he’s looked inside the room, but he hasn’t stepped inside since. 

Clint, he wants to see his lover, but he knows that if he sees him more, he’ll loos the last bit of peacefulness that Tasha gave him with her permission. Clint just wants to be left along to think, but Bucky will make is complicated. Clint stays in his seat near the windows, he’s tired and doesn’t have the strength to stand. 

Bucky looks at Clint’s unconscious body, and bites his lip. Clint does look terrible. The new bandage from the latest surgery is red, soaking up the seeping blood. 

Bucky looks good though. He’s wearing jeans, a red t-shirt, and his usual black hoodie, unzipped. He got his hair in a ponytail and Clint shakes his head. 

Bucky sits next to Clint’s bed and holds Clint’s undamaged hand in his. He just sits there, not moving. Clint watches Bucky and smiles. He’s back at least. 

Clint wonders, if he concentrated enough, could he feel Bucky touching him. If he laid down over his body, would they merge. Would he feel Bucky then?

Bucky drops Clint’s hand, but scoots the chair closer. Clint, with all his strengths, moved to his own bed, sits next to his knees. Clint just wants to feel him once more. It’s a primal feeling, like infant looking for it’s mother. But Clint knows that if he feels Bucky, it’ll be war in his mind and heart. 

Clint sees Bucky mouthing something, Please. Over and over, Bucky says please. But why? “Please, Clint, don’t make me beg.” Bucky finally says. 

{-------------------------------------------------}

Clint never meant to fall for Bucky. Sure, he wanted a great friendship, but fall in love with him? How was that going to work? Bucky was a mess, and so was Clint. They both had nightmares, days where they didn’t want to see people, days where all they wanted was to start a fight. They were the same, and isn’t too much of one thing a bad thing, especially in relationships? 

But Clint fell, hard and fast for Bucky. They did shooting competitions, the winner dubbing themselves the best marksman in the world. They would run into each other at two in the morning after a nightmare that woke up them to chat, while drinking beer and eating junk food. 

Bucky would want to go out and explore the new world with him as a guide, because Clint knew the weirdest, random facts about everything. And Clint would find Bucky when they were forced to go to events for the Avengers. They would sit at the bar and talk, or sit at a table. 

They were together all the time, that no one questioned that they weren’t in love. And soon, they admitted it. 

Bucky had begged once before. And it was after a doozy of a fight. Clint had had a nightmare, and Bucky tried to wake up him. Clint, still not sure of his surroundings and his subconscious trying to protect him, grabbed the knife and slashed Bucky’s arm. 

When Clint saw what he had done, he dropped the bloody knife onto the bed. “Oh god.” He muttered, before grabbing a jacket and his shoes and running out of the room, and to the stairwell, where he ran down and then outside into New York City at half past three in the morning.

Bucky went to the infirmary to get stitched up by Bruce, and then back upstairs, after twenty questions from Tony, Steve, and Tasha. He went to their room and cleaned up the mess. The bedsheets where ruined now, and the knife needed to be washed and sanitized. 

After cleaning up, Bucky went and sat in their living room, cup of coffee in front of him, watching the outside world, and he kept watching it as it slowly woke up.

Finally, Clint showed up around eight. He was shivering, his lips slightly blue due to not enough warmth at night. 

“You idiot.” Bucky muttered, putting his empty mug in the sink. “You ran without even talking to me.” 

“I injured you, Bucky. I could have killed.” Clint said to him.

“And I could have stopped you if you had gotten that far.” Bucky said, waving his metal arm around. 

Clint gulped. He knew Bucky would never use that strength on him. Bucky barely liked touching him with it, or letting Clint touch it. And Bucky was far too much in love to injure Clint. 

“I can’t do this.” Clint told Bucky. 

Bucky looked at Clint like he was insane. “Do this? Our relationship? Clint, this is the first bad incident.”

“And I can’t have the fact that I might injure you again, or worse, if I have a nightmare again.” Clint said, explaining to Bucky. “I can’t live with the idea that I’ve injured you. I’d be as bad as my dad.” 

Bucky sighed and moved closer to Clint. “You are nothing like your father. He was an abusive asshole, who did it for fun or just because he was drunk. You’ve done it once, because your body thought you were in danger. This was a fluke.”

“A fluke that can happen again, Buck. I’m not risking you, at all.” Clint said, walking towards their room. 

Bucky stayed where he was. Clint was just gonna shower or something, right? But, no, Clint came back out with a bag full of clothes. “I’m gonna spend a few nights downstairs with Tasha.”

And before Bucky could say anything, Clint left.

For a week, Bucky was miserable. He needed Clint back in bed with him. Yeah, he had nightmares before Clint left, but now there wasn’t anymore next to him to remind him that that was all they were.

After dinner, a week after Clint left, Bucky went to Clint’s room. He knocked and then let himself in. Clint was sitting on the bed, reading. “Bucky?”

“Come back upstairs. We can work this out, but I need you back in bed. Waking up without you next to me is something that I didn’t want to remember. So, please, come back upstairs, and we can talk this out. Please, Clint.” Bucky begged, his voice starting to break.

Clint looked at his lover, and held a hand out. Bucky immediately walked over to him and grabbed his hand.

Clint pulled Bucky onto the bed, between his legs, and Bucky sighed.

Bucky rested his cheek against Clint’s cheek.

“Okay. I’d never thought you beg.” Clint whispered, running a hand through Bucky’ hair.

“Don’t ever make me beg again, please?” Bucky whispered, wrapping Clint in his arms.

“Okay.” Clint smiled, kissing Bucky’s temple. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” Bucky smiled, nuzzling into Clint’s chest.


	16. 5:32 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I'm so sorry, but school and work got in the way. 
> 
> One chapter left, Will hopefully have it up within a week or two, and then I'm gonna started on the second book, no name for that yet, oops. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to people!

Pepper is finally here. It’s odd. She’s in crumpled clothing and her hair is thrown into a terrible ponytail. She must not have slept last night, or change into fresh clothing. Tasha is out, and Bucky had disappeared about twenty minutes ago. 

Steve and Tony were talking with Pepper. Clint walked closer to them, wanting to find out what was going on.

“The press has learned of Hawkeye’s accident, and they’re releasing the story at the eight o’clock news. They want a comment from one of you two saying that the Avengers can still do their jobs while being one down.” Pepper told the two men in front of her.

Clint gulped. “Shit,” He muttered. 

Maybe he should just die now, then none of them would have to worry about him and how to do their jobs. The world wouldn’t be worried the Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, couldn’t perform their jobs correctly. 

“Steve should. He’s the leader.” Tony said. 

Steve looked at Tony. “But you know how to handle the media a lot better than I do.” 

“Actually, Pepper does. So, ask Pepper if she can help you. But you’re the leader of the group, Rogers.” Tony told Steve. “They’ll want that comment from the guy in charge.” 

Tony walked off then, into Clint’s room. He sat down and then played with the buttons on his jacket. Clint followed Tony, but looked back at Steve. Steve was nervous, but Pepper could help him. Pepper always made everything, with the media at least, better.

Clint curls back up on the couch near the window, just watching Tony sit in the chair. 

“Oh Clint,” Tony said, looking up from his jacket to his friend’s unconscious body. “You have caused quiet the mess, kiddo. No one blames you, we all know it was the other driver. He was drunk, he died on impact. You got thrown from your car somehow, they said that the seat belt was just old, worn out, and it gave when the car crashed, and your weight as pushed against it.” Tony blew out a breath.

“Bruce and I were playing with making a new toy for you, new bow and a new arrow. Boomerang arrow, it always comes back.” Tony said. Clint chuckled, an arrow that came bac to him. That would be a useful thing for when he started to run out of arrows. “Bruce looked at me like I had three heads when I threw that idea out, but after a few, he was for it. We were trying to figure out a homing beacon thing, that wouldn’t make the arrow hurt you.”

Tony rambled on, and Clint looked out the window, waiting for the sun to rise. But it wouldn’t, at least not for another hour. Just twenty-four hours ago, he was safe in bed, with Bucky wrapped around him, him nuzzling into Bucky’s chest or neck, trying to hold off the day. 

“Clint, you still have family here, you know that, right?” Tony asked. “We won’t give up on you, not matter what happens.” 

Clint blinks rapidly for a few seconds, trying to figure out how and why Tony said that. 

“I know that, Tones, but . . . I’m just tired, right now and here. And the journey down looks long and hard, and I’ve already fought so much.” Clint whispered to Tony. 

Tony sighed, stood up and leaned over Clint’s body, and pressed a slight kiss to Clint’s forehead. “It’ll be okay, Clint, I know it will. Just remember, you’re family, and I won’t stop fighting for you.” 

{-------------------------------------------------}

Last time someone said ‘family’ and him in the same sentence, it was Christmas, just five months ago. It was his first Christmas that he and Bucky were together. And Clint loved it.

He woke up to smell pancakes and gingerbread, and he had Bucky’s metal arm around his waist. He smiled and leaned back, cozying into Bucky’s hold. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Bucky mumbled, and Clint smiled.

“Merry Christmas to you, honey,” Clint whispered, stroking a finger up and down Bucky’s forearm. 

Bucky pressed a kiss into Clint’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go get food, I smell breakfast, and its pancakes. You love pancakes.”

Clint smiled. “I do love me some pancakes.” 

Bucky unwrapped his arms around Clint and slowly got up, always looking behind to see Clint watching him. He smirked, “Like what you see?” 

“Oh god yes.” Clint said, standing up and going over to his lover, before kissing him.

Finally, after a make-out session, they got downstairs, where the other seven people in the building: Steve, Tony, Tasha, Bruce, Pepper, Sam, and Rhodey. Tasha, Bruce, and Sam were still eating breakfast, while Steve, Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey were sitting around the large Christmas tree, talking. 

“Finally, you guys are here. Presents!” Tony smiled, hopping up onto his feet. “Grab some food and then get over here. We’re pulling out of a hat to see who opens presents first!” 

After Clint grabbed a stack on pancakes, drowned in syrup, and a mug of coffee, he sat next to Bucky on the loveseat, and saw the hat with numbers go around. Clint pulled number three, but Bucky pulled one. 

“Ugh,” Bucky sighed, and Clint kissed his cheek. 

“It’s Christmas, be happy!” Clint whispered to him, kissing his cheek again.

Bucky turned and kissed him, and shook his head. “It’s like drinking a bottle of maple syrup. Disgusting.” 

“Oh, you love.” Clint turned to the group, “Bucky got one.” 

Bucky’s first gift was a soft blanket, from Clint, that was purple, and it had hawks on it. “Always remind you of me.” Clint chuckled.

Presents were given around, and Clint opened them all, and it seemed like he got more than anyone combined. “What’s with all the fucking gifts?” Clint asked.

“Are you complaining?” Bucky smirked at his lover.

“No, I’m just wondering.” Clint responded, slightly confused, before looking around the room of friends.

Tony and Steve shrugged. Tasha smiled at him, “You’re the youngest, you get the most.” 

Clint thought for a second, his eyes squinted at his best friend, who was like his sister. “What if we add another person who’s younger than me?” 

“You’ll still get the most. You’re the original youngest, you’re family.” Tony said, taking a sip of his eggnog.

“You are definitely family,” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around Clint’s waist, before kissing him. 

And this was the first family that Clint felt like he belonged to in a long time.


	17. 7:14 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter, just wrote it. I hope it's good and you guys like it.

Exactly twenty-four hours ago, Clint woke up to what he thought was going to be a normal day. But this past day has been a disaster. 

The hospital is waking up, in a way. The day nurses are coming in, taking over the ones that work night. Two doctors that Clint recognizes are in his room, scribbling down notes in his chart, frowning as if Clint had somehow let them down.

But Clint doesn’t care. He’s tired of all of this, and he knows that it’ll be over soon. He’s once again curled up on the couch, his back to the armrest, his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and he’s leaning the side of his face on his kneecaps. Clint’s eyes lands on his team. Tony and Bruce are passed out on the couches outside his room. Steve is sitting on in a chair near them, drinking coffee and reading. He can’t see anyone else from where he is on the couch. 

The nurse, Lena, is back. She walks in and smiles at Clint’s body. She quickly looks over Clint, and shakes her head. There’s a bloodstain on Clint’s side, near the incision above his liver and spleen. It’s leaking. 

After Tony left, about forty-five minutes ago, no one has been in Clint’s room. It’s like no one else could handle being near him, afraid of the outcome. All they can do is watch. Clint could see Lena frown at Clint’s friends, but she knew something. Maybe the whole ‘staying-here-alive’ thing was real. And even Tony was kind of starting to act like that towards the end of his last visit.

Clint just hopes that no one would take his decision personally.

Clint’s exhausted, he can barely keep his eyes open, and he wonders if keeping his eyes open is just delaying the inevitable. But Clint’s waiting for Bucky to come back; and while it’s felt like forever, it’s only been about two hours. Bucky asked Clint to wait, and Clint wants to see Bucky one more time.

{-------------------------------------------------}

Clint’s eyes are closed when he hears the doors to his room open. He hears panting, someone is panting like they ran a marathon. But then Clint catches a sniff of cologne, Bucky’s cologne; a musky, woody scent with a slight sweet smell. Clint open’s his yes, Bucky is collapsing into the chair next to Clint’s bed, his eyes slightly red. Was he crying?

Bucky sighs, his shoulders visibly relaxing. He runs a hand through his hair and the over his face. He takes a few moments to collect himself, calm his breathing, settle his mind. 

“Listen to me,” Bucky said, his voice like shrapnel to Clint.

Clint raises his head and looks at Bucky, waiting for Bucky to say whatever he’s going to say.

“Stay.” is all Bucky says to him. He gulps, and then starts again. “There’s nothing that I can say to you that will make this accident seem okay. And I won’t try to pity you because you’ll hate me for that. And I know that live doesn’t seem bright if you do wake up, but it is. Not just me, but you have Tasha, Steve, Tony, and everyone else here for you. I may be talking idiot now.” Bucky said.

Clint chuckles at him, smiling at Bucky’s worrying. Bucky also worried too much because Clint barely worried. All Clint can think though is ‘I love you.’

Bucky sighs again and shakes his head. “All I can think that if you die now, you’re gonna miss so much. And yeah, I know you’ve seen a lot of the world and done so much. And I know that it’s gonna be a hard road. And yeah, it’s fucked up, darling. I can’t help undo any of this. But I can’t think of a future without you, without you shooting arrows trying to outdo my own shooting record, bringing an entire pot of coffee to bed in the morning, because you the bed is just too comfortable to leave it for too long. I don’t want a future that means I don’t get chills running down my back when I see you standing, holding the bow in your hands, aiming for something to shoot. 

“Clint, if you stay, I’ll do anything you want. I know I already do most of it, but I will never say no to you, baby. So please, please stay. I need you to wake up. You keep me sane, and I need you.” Bucky begged, almost sobbing near the end. He sniffed and wiped the tears away. “I was talking with Tony earlier, and she made a good point that coming back may be painful, that it would easier for you to leave us. That would be fucking horrible, to me at least, but I’ll handle is someway, somehow. I’ll let you go if you really need to go. But, doll, I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And if you can’t stay here, I’ll go with you. 

“But if you don’t want me, I’ll let you go. Because then at least you’re alive somewhere. I don’t want to be in a world that doesn’t have you living. I’ll let you go, if you stay, baby.” 

Bucky’s walls break then and the tears tumble down.

Clint looks away, biting his lip, trying not to cry himself. He covers his ears with his hands. He can’t bear to see or hear Bucky like this. It’s too much for him. 

But then Clint hears something, one of his favourite pieces. No one would peg him that he likes classical, but he only ever listens it to while he practices. Vivaldi. His mother played it around the house, and Coulson said that it helped him focus, gave him time to think through things. 

Bucky found out by trying to get Clint’s attention while he was shooting. Bucky finally got Jarvis to tell him what Clint was listening to through his hearing aids, and Bucky smiled. 

So now, Vivaldi’s ‘Storm’ is playing and Clint just closes his eyes and breathes, imagining everything. 

He’s sitting at the dinning table, with Avengers around him, all laughing and joking about anything and everything. 

He’s back home, looking down at his mother’s grave, and then he’s in New York, looking at Coulson’s. 

He’s in bed, the morning sun’s rays lighting up his room in a golden glow, Bucky behind him, Bucky’s metal arm draped over his waist, his hand sprawled out over Clint’s stomach.

The two of them are walking through the streets of New York, just people watching, holding hands. 

He’s standing in the range, his bow grasped in one hand, and arrow knocked back in the other, he’s waiting for the perfect moment to let go, to let the arrow fly true to it’s target. 

Clint looks at his hand, Bucky’s holding it, a thumb caressing circles into the back of it.

Vivaldi is still playing, and it’s like Clint’s just remembering life as it was, and what is may be like. He’s thinking so fast, until there’s a blinding flash. There’s a pain that rips through his body, a silent scream coming from his broken body. Clint finally knows how horrible it would be to stay here.

But then Clint’s feels Bucky’s hand, not just sense it, but actually feel warm flesh on his cold hand. He’s no longer on the couch, curled in on himself.

Bucky is still crying, and somewhere inside of Clint, he’s crying too. He’s feeling everything, not just pain, but everything that he most likely just lost – the shooting, his career. The loss is profound and catastrophic, and it’ll leave a crater in Clint that will never heal. But he’s feeling what he has too, the unknown too. And it’s too much for Clint. 

For so long he was just floating in nothing, but now he feels everything. It’s like his chest is opening up and his heart is just pouring out every feeling that has been bottled up for his entire life. 

Clint focuses on Bucky’s hand, flesh on flesh. Bucky’s hand grasping his. 

And Clint, suddenly, needs so much more than to just be holding Bucky’s hand. He wants to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, feel his lover’s stubble, any time of day, He’s focusing all that want into his hand, feeling Bucky’s hand. He thinks of Coulson and his mother smiling at him, happy for him. He thinks of Tasha, the care and understanding she’s always had for him in their time as partners and friends. 

He summons all that strength he feels into his hand. It’s like picking up his bow, reading to shoot at something.

And he squeezes.

Clint relaxes his hand, thinking that maybe this isn’t real, unsure that he really did what he just did. He wonders if it registers to Bucky, if the squeeze mattered.

But then Bucky’s grip tightens, to the point where it’s like Clint is the only thing keeping Bucky alive. Clint hears a sharp intake of air, followed by Bucky’s voice. A voice that is like a newborn foal, wobbly and unsure. 

“Clint?” Bucky asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll star writing the sequel after the semester ends, in about two weeks, but you probably won't get anything new til the new year. Sorry about that. I just want to try to be a head a bit. 
> 
> Still thinking if it should be Bucky or Clint's POV. I'm leaning towards Bucky's.


End file.
